


Boyfriend Material

by orphan_account



Category: Game Grumps, Youtube RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 03:15:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2835953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry is not (and has never been) a good boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boyfriend Material

Barry is not (and has never been) a good boyfriend.

Simple romantic-y things, like sharing a bath, are completely out of Barry's comprehension. It just seems weird, you know? To share someone's bathwater. _Ugh_. The idea remains disgusting, almost repulsive, despite the fact that Barry has probably been just as intimate with Dan as any bathwater could possibly claim to be. (A fact which, when Barry happened to think it, _still_ made him blush, stutter and have to retreat to his room for fear of a very un-manly panic attack.)

And flowers! God, Barry has been shit with flowers. He remembered them once, when he was caught short for Dan's birthday at a gas station at 3am. He had fumbled with some crumpled notes at the cashiers counter, the last cash he had on him. Turns out he only had the $24 for the top-up of his shitty Honda, so he had to leave the (albeit, wilting) daffodils on the counter and apologize profusely for completely forgetting.

What kind of boyfriend forgets their boyfriend's birthday anyway? A shit one, that's what. Barry knew that Dan didn't _seem_ bothered, told Barry that he understood Barry had been tired from working and - hell - Dan had sort of forgotten himself, only remembering from a classic _'ehhhhhhhh happy birthday, Dan!'_ voice mail. But still, that whole affair had made Barry so embarrassed that every time he remembered he wanted to eat his fist.

Restaurants? Barry couldn't give a fuck; had the wine knowledge of an committed tramp. Style? It wasn't until Suzy had forcibly taken away and destroyed his corduroy pants that Barry had stopped wearing them. Parties? Dan was the life and soul, his signature laugh echoing around house parties as Barry got gradually more and more drunk to combat the anxious ache. 

Not that Dan really cared about any of that. He lived off takeout and didn't drink, still wore jeans that had mud encrusted into the ass from when he was still in in High School; and got genuinely thrilled at the prospect of pulling Barry into conversations at parties, introducing him as his 'cool funny editor-co-worker-and-boyfriend' with that grin that smacked Barry around the face.

And Dan wasn't you know... good at other stuff that perhaps Barry would have wanted from a partner. He couldn't cook for shit, but Barry didn't mind that because it made his ability to make french toast look like Gordon-bloody-Ramsey levels of skill, and let them justify takeout on a regular basis. 

Dan also worked himself stupid staying up for 48 hours and forgetting to shower, which was gross, but which Barry also didn't really care about because he could push Dan into the bathroom and lock the door, making him take a break (even though those times usually ended with Dan falling asleep on the toilet rather than getting clean, but at least he got some fucking rest). 

The only thing they really were surprisingly good at was, well. _Each other_. Barry could zone in on when something was making Dan's leg bump up and down (the sign he was nervous) and quietly ask whether anything was wrong (which it usually was, and Dan talking about it really seemed to help). Dan could tell when Barry was overloaded, even though Barry would never admit that ever, and was instrumental in hiring Kevin to get some of the weight off his shoulders.

They didn't need to sit down and have a proper boyfriend-boyfriend breakfast after a regular bedtime. They were both quite happy to roll out of bed 10 minutes before they needed to be out the door, have Barry slam some butter onto some toast and pass a slice to Dan whilst Dan found their iPhones from where they had ended up the night before.

And _god_ there was nothing wrong with the sex. Nothing at all. Barry had been terrified, but good terrified, especially when it was obvious Dan was terrified too. Now they were relaxed, HJs in the morning, BJs at night, and comfortable arms-around-waists when Barry and/or Dan just wanted to make out, and taste that face-smack grin for a couple of minutes.

When Barry thinks about it, on nights like this one when Dan's curled around him but Barry can't sleep and he's run out of Candy Crush lives, he kind of hates himself. 

He _wants_ to be a better boyfriend, but wonders if any of that shit actually matters. As incredible as the idea sounds... does Dan actually just want him? 

Barry can't believe that; Barry doesn't _allow_ himself to believe that he's that lucky. It just seems too fortunate, to both fall in love with his best friend and have his best friend love him back for just being... well, him.

Barry knows he's never going to stop wondering how to be better. Maybe it'd be a sign of things being worse if he did. Barry wants to nudge Dan awake and explain this to him, how his mind is whirring and he wants to be reminded, again, that everything is okay, but Dan needs his sleep and he's pre-occupied with Starbomb, and has he managed to get through to Brian since he tried two hours ago? Barry knows that's important to him, probably knows everything that's important to him, now he comes to think about it.

Barry turns over, little spooning, and Dan pulls him closer, pressing his three-day stubble to Barry's neck.

"Stop thinking and go to sleep, Bear."

Barry can't keep from grinning and closes his eyes, feeling the anxiety melt away.

So, yeah, Barry has never been a good boyfriend. But, thank fuck, Dan is just as bad.


End file.
